hurry, hurry [OPEN]

[theguideless]

Date & Time: 2/20, nighttime
Location: All over the friggin' place – near the houses, the starting point, the hold etc.
Characters: Martin Darkov, YOU?
Summary: Gotta find a way out of here, man.
Warnings: N/A



No, no, no...

Martin's thoughts were in time with his panting – a mistake right away, he realized, once he felt his throat start to really feel raw and tight. That's not how you're supposed to run.

But he'd gotten scared. So scared. Everything was just...just too much at once. He didn't think to calm down, breathe through his nose when he ran, take stock of where he was going. He had no idea if he was going in circles or squares or anything, just--

I have to get back to Olvoski. I have to. I have to. Have to, have to...

"Gnah...hah..." He had to stop again, bent forward with his hands on his knees, panting hard. Nasally whimpers escaped here and there, the worst of which he fought ferociously. I must not cry. I must get back to Olvoski.

I must!

It made his shaky legs move again. Bleary-eyed and blind to real direction, he ran, seeking out the shape of a body who could, who just might be able to tell him what he needed to hear.

Comments

[septim]

The Initiative were benevolent captors. Martin didn't share the open hostilities of the other arrivals towards their kidnappers—he knew this could be worse, captives in a plane filled with brimstone and demons, tortured for their cooperation. If anything, he considered himself lucky to be in such a position.

That didn't mean he wouldn't try to find a way out. His previously-dead-and-now-alive issue notwithstanding, others didn't share his (frustratingly, at least to others) positive outlook. Martin, the child, looked as if he was about a cry. Teleported from one realm into another, without a way back, it was a shock of imaginable proportions.

But for now, Martin couldn't afford to think of children. Luckily, the training rooms are spacious, and mostly empty, though their doors can't be locked. No matter, no one had walked into his spellcasting session in over thirty minutes, and he doubts they'll start now, especially when his arms and legs are covered in flame tongues, hands and eyes shut tight.

Fire magic is the easiest to call but the hardest to control. The most primal of elements, it is fickle and destructive, seeking to grow without care for what it consumes. It's only years of practice, and a strange affinity to fire he could never describe, that keep him calm as he waves his hands in the sign to call forth Fire Storm.

The spell's roar is so loud that it spills into the halls outside, followed by a residual cloud of fire that spreads a meter outside the door, then disappears as quickly as it came.

[theguideless]

Tried and truer hunters kept their cool in the face of the unexpected.

Martin was a little busy panicking to remember that, and let out a pretty undignified sound of shock when his vision was overtaken by light and his skin with brief but potent heat.

He couldn't begin to explain how he landed on his backside the way he did, but it didn't matter at all. Something bad was happening, he just knew it. He could feel it, smell it--

Maybe, maybe if he could take care of it, they'd let him go. At least for a little while. Long enough to...

Martin had to shake his head of his buzzing thoughts, wasting way too much time sitting on the floor and not enough getting down to business. He scrambled to his feet, eying the door where the blaze emerged, gulping a few times in a desperate search for his resolve.

Assess first, he told himself. Get all the details, then...then come up with the most thorough strategy...to...

He tiptoed so slowly, sliding up against the wall as he got closer, shuffling to a stop right before the opening. He didn't dare take a breath as he started peeking into the room.

[septim]

Of course Martin's magicka pool increased since his years in the Mages Guild. Still, he was winded, a series of pants as he tried to catch his breath, stilling his heart as the scent of scorched stone and cloth (always present after fire magic, even if nothing caught on fire) filled his nostrils.

He'd forgotten how exhilarating the Destruction school of magic could be. After his renouncement of daedric magic, he'd bowed to stop his pursuit to become a master of the arcane. Still, this was a war, he was a better battlemage than a knight, and, likely thanks to Akatosh' blessing, his magicka pool could withstand another assault.

Frost magic, while weaker, was easier to control. A dusting of snow and the howl of winds begin as Martin clutches his hands once more, white-blue magic enveloping his entire magic. With a swipe of his hand and a downward motion, he loosens the spell, a Blizzard raging immediately afterwards.

The scorched scent gave way to the clean, cold smells of winter. Delighted, Martin catches snowflakes and hailstones in his hands, unaware he's being watched.

[theguideless]

The hair on the back of little Martin's neck practically stood straight out as the foreign force permeated and began to emit the chill. It wasn't chill which sent him the terrible feeling so much as the source itself; it was completely foreign, but in such a dangerous way as for his entire body to quake with the urge to flee as fast as he could.

He flattened against the wall the second he saw the color of snow, his heart practically leaping into his throat and lips pulled back in a very toothy grimace of distress.

What is going on here?!!

Only when his hands ached for how tight his fists were curled did he exhale, well after the summoned gale had settled. He shuddered, both for cold and the toll on his senses. He was probably in very real danger, staying there. Over his head.

But Victor wasn't around. Nor Danielle, or even horrible Alexander. All of them would be able to take care of it. But they weren't there. Just him. Just him and...and whatever it was in there doing horrible things.

He was going to have to stop it.

Eyes clamped tight for the time it took him to suck in a few breaths of resolve, the tiny Martin raced into the room, one hand tightly clamped around the wrist of his other arm, held forward in a way that was...probably nowhere near as threatening as he intended it to be.

"Hold!" he cried, almost a squeak.

[septim]

The frightened squeak forces Martin to stop dusting off the ice and snow from his robe and turn around. His eyes widen in shocked shame as he realizes just who watched this latest spell unfold.

"Are you okay!?" It's nearly a scream, as he grabs Martin by his shoulders and frantically checks for burns and/or frostbite. When none is found, due to the clothes, of course, Martin casts a healing spell, then falls onto a half-kneeling position, magicka burnt out, panting once more.

[theguideless]

It was all very sudden and very terrible, and the boy could hardly even think to get his bearings. Hands were on him, horrible sensations were gripping him and causing his skin to practically try and rip free of his body...his vision blurred so badly he thought he was going cross-eyed. His nose burned.

Released, all Martin can do is simply drop, ashen and trembling with the horrifying invasion, faintly certain he'd been poisoned or already killed by whatever he'd foolishly tried to confront. Tears welled up in his eyes immediately at the thought. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm going to die right now. I'm already dead!

[septim]

Martin, meanwhile, still half-kneeling, looks down. As he looks at the child (A child, you idiot, casting Master-level spells in front of him, what were you thinking!?), a chest-wrenching desperation overwhelms him. Are you okay? is an asinine question to ask at the moment, so Martin simply stares, begging to whichever divine is listening that the kid (which he recognizes as the other Martin, panicked and so full of hope during their last conversation) comes to his senses on his own.

[stonefaith]

Bariyan had resolutely not been drinking tonight, but that left him bored out of his mind. He'd gone out for a walk. Outside of his hold, and away from the city, and-- well, right into the kid.

He'd turned a blind corner -- blinder still in the dark -- saw something coming towards him. Instead of getting out of the way, Bariyan came to a complete halt and gave Martin a blank stare. Like the burden was entirely upon Martin to avoid him.

This could very easily end in collision.

[theguideless]

It was inevitable, really. Martin was not at his best, and even his best tended to gloss over details in the face of a big picture. The current big picture being get the hell out of here now now NOW and not avoid person-shape coming rapidly into view.

Perhaps luckily for the shape, Martin wasn't a very heavy kid, who probably did more damage to himself than anyone else as he slammed into him.

"YAUGH-!!"

[stonefaith]

Bariyan braces himself and goes all rock-solid when the collision comes -- he very nearly digs his feet in to keep himself from moving at all, but gives at the last second, stumbling back a few steps. The impact only barely registers in his mind.

"Watch yourself, kid," Bariyan says, after he's recovered. Guessing it's a kid, anyway. "You all right?"

[theguideless]

Martin didn't so much stumble as he bounced right off the not-so-squishy shape, landing squarely and gracelessly on his rump with a heavy, winded sound. It was a dizzying few seconds of blurred vision and spinning scenery before Martin could even register being talked at or...or having even hit something sentient.

He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting, gawking upward. Who...?

While his mouth hung open, waiting for words, the overwhelming scent smacked him in the face and drained the color from his cheeks. His body tensed immediately, frozen in abject horror, as was his rather typical and involuntary reaction to the stuff.

Monster.

[stonefaith]

Bariyan waited for an answer, a response... something. Anything.

All right. Fine. Looked like he was getting nothing.

"I... I didn't break your legs or anything, did I?" Bariyan asked, slightly alarmed by the complete lack of reaction. The kid looked as if he'd just seen a ghost, or something. But that didn't make any sense. Bariyan definitely didn't recognize him from anywhere.

He extended a hand towards Martin. "C'mon."

[theguideless]

The hand moving closer and closer into his space triggered a reaction in Martin at last. His arm jerked out in front of him, fingers almost curling.

WHOOOMPH! The loud rumble of something large and heavy moving at a high speed.

CLANG! Metal hitting a stop.

The aim was all off, hardly able to graze the monster at all before impacting the wall behind him. With nowhere else to advance, the rest of the object sent Marty flying and skidding backward hard into the wall parallel. He yelped and crumpled, hands wrapping around the back of his head against the pain.

Whatever it was that went torpedoing out was nowhere and nothing but a bit of dust settling on the ground.

[iwasinpakistan]

Eliot had been mostly keeping to himself over the past days since his arrival, monitoring the network without responding or posting, monopolizing the heavy bag during the mandated "training" sessions and scowling at anyone he came across as if daring them to say something. Most of them, unsurprisingly, didn't take him up on the offer.

And nights? Nights he mostly spent outside, prowling the Initiative Hold and the places beyond it as far as the boundary of Exsilium. It . . . didn't look encouraging out there. The fact that they really didn't seem to be in their own times or places any more had shifted from a ridiculous story spun by their captors to a tacitly accepted fact, but Eliot still didn't like it much; being trapped made him itch. He needed to move, to blow off steam and keep himself focused.

What he did not need, at least if you'd asked him his opinion (which, surprise, nobody had) was to hear panicked, frantically running footsteps bearing down on him . . .

[theguideless]

It was a little sad to admit Martin was getting better about not hitting people through experience, but it was no less true. Though the artificial lighting played tricks with his untrained eyes, he was getting better at discerning incoming shapes when slipping back into the dark he was very familiar with.

This time around, he managed to catch sight of the body and start slowing himself down after turning that sharp corner, tripping with a skidding misstep of a toe and crashing to the ground, chin-first.

"Whuff-!"

It knocked the wind out of him and knocked a lot of pain into his jaw and knees, causing an involuntary groan.

[iwasinpakistan]

"Whoa!" It'd be inaccurate to say Eliot was surprised by Martin's extremely ungraceful entrance -- the running footsteps had kind of been a dead giveaway -- but the faceplant, that had been unexpected.

Eliot's first reaction was to check around the corner, see if someone was after the kid, but the street was dark and apparently deserted. Another moment to make sure whoever it was wasn't just hiding, and Eliot stashed his knife back in its sheath at the small of his back and made his way back to Martin's side, crouching.

"You okay, kid?"

[theguideless]

"Nguh," he replied dumbly, still dazed. He shook his head of it, rubbing under his chin and wincing at the soreness. "S...S'ry, sorry..."

[iwasinpakistan]

"What for?" Eliot held out a hand, offering the kid a lift back to his feet. If he'd plowed into him rather than going sprawling, the encounter probably would've unfolded differently -- but this hardly seemed like something that needed apologizing. "Nothin' broken, huh?"

[theguideless]

Martin stared blankly at the hand for a second or two, his gaze broken and sent up to the man's face at the inquiry. Huh-?

"Oh, uhm..." He winced a little, moving his hand from his chin to grab hold of the offered one, making a throaty, surprised noise at the amount of help given him up. Tiny and light, he was.

Freed and upright, his shoulders began to shrug up, shrinking a little. "N-no, I don't think...No. Sorry, I'm alright."

monsters, huh~?

[noble_sin]

There is a shape on the edge of the roof of one of the buildings, broad-winged and glittering gold, watching like a gargoyle. And at the sight of Martin it dives off, casually breaking its fall with a few swoops of that thirty-foot wingspan. Oh, the body of the dragon isn't all that large, not much larger in bulk than a wolf, but it has the bearing of a tiger in the way it moves once it's set down, stalking in a broad circle around the open square Martin's found himself in.

[please see this thingy, also]

ohboyohboyohboy 8)

[theguideless]

When the warning tingle seized his neck and back, Martin practically tumbled end over end before considering a graceful stop. His arms flailed, his breath caught in his throat, and he fumbled to a frozen, unflattering pose as wide eyes gawked ahead of him.

I wasn't ready!

One leg trembled as his brain went from zero to sixty. What do I do what do I do is it going to jump first which way do I strike??

What little instinct he had brought his arms forward, palms out and fingers almost curling. They shook, too, but he forced them in place. Beneath the surface, bones shifted and readied.

[noble_sin]

The dragon tenses and twists, readying to pounce, and with those wings still half-spread it could easily go far enough in a single leap to reach Martin. Its legs tense, and—

—it sits on its haunches like a big cat, watching him, as the wings fold back compactly. The beast is clearly far too refined and majestic to snicker, but something about the subtle shifts in its body language suggests that it might be thinking about doing that anyway.

[theguideless]

Martin does a whole lot of gawking and little else for a good span of time, braced and wrestling with nerves. It's...It's...

...Not doing much of anything, is it?

He's not sure if that was normal or not, how little experience he had on the field. Does this happen at all? Ever? Or...Or is this...

The confusion was painted very plainly on his face, at times framed by his unsteady and outstretched hands, still hunched forward and waiting. Maybe it was a test? To see how long until he dropped his guard? Mind games?

Or maybe he was the only one playing games with himself.

I am the slowest tagger

[noble_sin]

The dragon tilts its head to one side, and then the other, and then it slides up from its sitting position and stalks towards him again. But there's no springing this time, just the smooth movement of a tiger, almost contemptuously unafraid of whatever threat Martin might pose. Only the way its eyes stay fixed on him betray that it's even heading towards him instead of, say, a bench behind him.

It sits again, nearer him, still watching.

is ok with this

[theguideless]

It was a good thing the boy hadn't eaten anything in a while, otherwise there'd be much more to Martin's reactions than just his stomach doing somersaults of adrenaline and panic.

Oh no it's moving it's going to eat me now-- Martin's arms began to tremble again, breath coming faster and shorter. The dull pain of his elbow locking in place began to throb, ready to attack. It made his fingers hurt, too, straining in place.

It was a little too late to register it's sitting by the time Martin couldn't stand the approach any longer. His eyes clamped shut, teeth gritted as if to grind to dust, and his hand gave a little squeeze on the stiffly locked wrist. He dug his heels in best he could, but there was no dirt to help cushion him from the sheer force of the lance exploding into the material world from his hand.

Without looking, without aiming, the over-sized projectile rockets well off-course, crashing violently into a wall and disintegrating on contact, leaving behind the cracks and a bit of ash. Martin went flying backward, tumbling and rolling to a face-first stop, arms curling around his head.

He didn't dare peek, just hoping he skewered whatever it was and he wasn't monster-food.